


I just feel complete when you're by my side

by SuusUrie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuusUrie/pseuds/SuusUrie
Summary: Killian Rogers is patrolling through the crowd on May Day when he hears a sound he definitely shouldn't be hearing in the middle of the day.





	I just feel complete when you're by my side

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my first work after three years of not writing (: 
> 
> Since I couldn't find any Officer Rogers fics I decided to write one myself. English isn't my first language so if you see any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> Enjoy!

As he makes his way down Cherry Street on his daily patrol, officer Rogers sighs deeply. Usually, on May Day, he would’ve been marching right along with all those protesting. This year however, he was forced to watch his fellow demonstrators and make sure no citizens got injured. 

After finishing police academy just four months earlier, Killian was offered a job as an officer at the local Seattle police department. With David Nolan being the chief of the department, but also happening to be Killian’s closest – and one of his few – friends, he rolled in rather quickly. Not only was David in the force, but Rogers’ mate since high school, Robin of Locksley, was the deputy of chief Nolan. The three police officers were often found together in a bar way past midnight, when their shifts had ended. With Killian being the youngest of the three, he found himself feeling protected by the older men – that, and the fact that they were highly ranked in the force was a helpful factor as well.

Killian continues to stroll, not really paying any attention. He was exhausted, having to work into the later hours last night to finish his reports. He always made sure to finish his reports of any of his cases neatly and on time, as it was one of the things he could truly shine in. After losing his left hand in an accident, killing his brother and fiancée, he wasn’t usually put on any physically exhausting cases. This annoyed Killian to no end; he could handle a gun better with one hand than most could with two. He was aware of the fact that David and Robin were just trying to look out for him and wanted to make sure he didn’t overdo himself but that was exactly what he wanted. Phantom pains were still very common and not to mention the emotional damage the accident had done, keeping busy was a way to keep his mind off of it and his hand off the alcohol. 

Thinking of his injury, he flexes his right hand, making sure he at least had one still left. A groan catches his attention and he furrows his eyebrows. It wasn’t uncommon for one of the demonstrators to get hurt, simply by bumping into one another, but this sounded slightly different. After locating the exact direction the groan came from – a skill he had learned from his older brother Liam, who used to be in the Navy – he takes a breath and walks towards the back of the 7/11 shop, making sure he had his handgun if needed. He was taught not to use it, unless if necessary to ensure both his safety and the safety of those surrounding him. As he rounds the corner, he sees a middle-aged man trying to what seems like force himself upon a blond lass. He hesitates, not sure if he was in any position to interrupt, but the blonde didn’t seem to enjoy any of the events happening. If anything, she seemed rather bored by it. 

He clears his throat, before speaking up, “Mate, it doesn’t look like she’s consenting. I’d like you to take a step back now. Officer Rogers at your service.” Killian watches as the man stiffens at his voice, but the woman’s reaction is hidden by the man’s buff shoulders. As before-mentioned man turns around, he gets a quick glance at the woman’s face, one that seems slightly annoyed – it seems to be directed at him, but he wasn’t completely certain. Killian shakes off that thought, as he was just trying to help her by doing his duty. The man turns around fully and takes a step toward Killian. He doesn’t flinch; all that would do is give the man a confidence boost. 

“Don’t call me mate, you fucking byling.”

Killian’s reaction to that is mainly confusion, which he tries not to show through facial expressions. He fails.

“Great, you’re even more stupid than you seemed at first. If you cops would just do your homework, maybe the lot of you would actually be good at your job,” the man, whose accent Killian now recognizes as Swedish, spits out. Killian just raises an eyebrow and grabs the handcuffs that were previously attached to his belt. “If you would put your hands behind your back now, sir, it would be highly appreciated. Makes my job much easier, and the interrogation just a tad bit shorter,” He rattles, trying to appear confident. The bald man doesn’t obey. The woman was now just leaning against the dirty wall, shooting daggers at him with her green eyes. Perhaps she was enjoying it, after all. He figures she would have said something by now if she had, so he continues with arresting the older man. “Sir, if you won’t obey, I’ll have to switch to violence and I assume that is something neither of us want.”

The man’s scowl slowly turns into a grin, before grabbing Killian by his hair and pressing him against the wall the blonde was leaning against; she jumped away with the sudden movements. Killian swallows a groan at the way his head seems to swim, before forcing a dry chuckle. “I suppose violence is your go-to solution, then. But surprise-attacking a man? Bad form, mate.” That endearment earned him another shove, this one in particular crushing his ribs. “Not your mate,” the man grits out between his teeth. Killian shrugs, wincing at the strain that puts on his already bruising ribs. “I mean, we’re at a peaceful gathering. Aren’t we all each other’s mates?” 

Definitely the wrong thing to say, he realizes just seconds later. 

The man pushes Killian to the ground – rather harshly, if he must admit - and draws a knife. He barely has time to defend himself before the Swede buries it in Killian’s side. He vaguely feels the knife being pulled out, hears a gasp and footsteps quickly getting softer before all he feels is the searing pain in his side and all he hears is an annoyingly high sound, it possibly even damaging his ear drums. After a few seconds, he gathers enough control to open his eyes again and as soon as he does, he sees the blonde leaning over him. She lets out a sigh, maybe of relief, maybe of annoyance, he’s not sure, and leans back, muttering soft curses under her breath. All he manages to make out is ‘fucking cops, can’t even let me do my fucking job’ before she too walks away. He wants to ask her whether she’s hurt or not, but another wave of pain washes over him and he blacks out.

 

Waking up isn’t a pleasant experience, Killian Rogers can tell you that much. After being in a state of complete oblivion for what in his opinion was way too short, waking up means his pain coming back to him all at once. He lets out a low moan and rolls over to his back, lifting the pressure off of his ribs just slightly, but enough to make him sigh in relief. He presses his hand against the stab wound in his side, not yet sure if it is deep enough to cause any major complications. As he looks around and doesn’t spot either the lass or the man, he groans again, realizing he has just let an armed man escape. He knows David would understand if he explained the situation, but that was the issue. Killian has no plans of telling him what exactly happened. He checked for security camera’s and bystanders before arriving, so there was no proof of what happened. The last thing he wanted was to be forced to the hospital by David and Robin, or even worse: A forced leave. He doubts staying at home for a few weeks would do him any good. 

Gathering all the energy he possibly can at this moment, he stands up. He sways, his throbbing head probably a result of the first time he was pushed against the brick wall. Or perhaps the blood loss, he wasn’t sure. After taking several deep breaths, he starts stumbling to the station. He’s in no state to finish his patrol, but he could definitely make a report of what occurred earlier. 

 

Walking a few miles after being stabbed isn’t a pleasant experience either, Killian finds out. He has to stop multiple times to either catch his breath or make sure he doesn’t faint again. With those breaks and as he tries to walk past the large crowds unnoticed, makes the usually short walk last close to half an hour. He takes his last break just outside the station, knowing that as soon as he walks in he’s gonna have to suck it up. With a deep breath, he shuffles inside, ignoring the way his head swims and how his ribs seem to hurt even more than earlier. The throbbing wound in his side is a tad harder to ignore, but he tries his utter best. As soon as he walks in, he makes his way to his desk. If anyone he knew would walk in, they wouldn’t recognize it as his; the only thing littering on it are stacks of papers. It’s not that Killian isn’t the sentimental type, he just doesn’t have much of emotional value.

He gingerly sits in his chair, letting out a huge sigh. He probably should take a quick shower, wash the grime and blood off, but he notices he feels rather lethargic. With the waves of pain still rolling over him, he doubts a shower would help that pain, so he figures he should just rest for a bit before making any choices. He leans back, careful not to show his colleagues the blood staining the left side of his uniform, and closes his eyes. He’d finish the report later, a quick nap has never hurt anyone, he figures. 

“Officer Rogers, since when do we sleep on the job?” He hears Robin’s voice call out. Killian lets out a growl and waves him away. “Bugger off, Locksley. I’m in no mood,” he mumbles, barely noticing his words starting to slur together. Robin apparently does take notice, because he takes a few strides to him and places a hand on his shoulder, before gasping softly. “Mate, what the hell happened?” Robin asks sternly. Killian just shrugs, not wanting to worry Robin. He knows that as soon as he tells him what happened, the man would tell David, who would send him to the hospital. Robin huffs. “Your forehead is bleeding. Doesn’t seem like nothing to me.” At that, he opens his eyes. His forehead? That meant Robin didn’t see the blood on his uniform, then. “Ah, that. Well, mate, I just had a bit of a run-in with a wall. Those bastards, you know what they’re like,” he jokes, trying to get the man off his back. Robin, being the stubborn man he is, doesn’t back off. Before he gets a chance to prompt Killian for more answers, they hear a commotion at the front desk. Killian closes his eyes again as Robin walks off to find out what the problem is, hoping to finally get some rest now. His injuries are really starting to catch up on him and he has no desire to faint in front of his colleagues any time soon. 

He feels as if he’s only just closed his eyes when he hears Robin’s footsteps coming closer again, this time followed by a pair of high heels clicking on the floor. He groans and opens his eyes, scanning his best friend’s features before scanning those of the woman that belonged to the high heels. Killian’s eyes widen as he recognizes the blonde from earlier, a little more disheveled than he recalls, but nonetheless the same woman. Instead of looking annoyed, she now looks rather concerned. Actually, her expression matches the one on Robin’s face. “Rogers, care to explain why this bail-bondswoman had to tell me her client stabbed you?” A bail-bondsperson, that explains a lot. He messed with her case, then. He groans at that, something that only fuels the concern of both of the faces in front of him. The tone of Robin’s voice makes Killian wince, as it represents the one of someone worrying for him. That was another reason he didn’t tell the man anything, he worried far too much and a silly injury Killian got by maybe not fully following protocol would only add to that. 

He bites his lip, looking at the woman still dressed in a tight red dress. She didn’t seem too phased with him not telling a superior, but she did still seem concerned. If about him, he couldn’t tell. Everything seemed to get more hazy by the second. “I.. Sorry, deputy. It shall not happen again,” he states, knowing he’s supposed to address colleagues formally in the public eye. Robin doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, as he sighs in frustration and turns to the woman in red. “Sorry, Miss Swan, but it seems officer Rogers needs to be spoken to. I’ll have you called as soon as we get the stubborn lad to the hospital. Don’t forget to pick up your check at the front desk, and tell officer French to add enough to it for the extra information on our officer. Have a great day,” he tells the woman, who nods and smiles in thanks, barely sparing Killian a glance as she walks away. 

“Fucking hell, Killian!” Robin yells as soon as the woman is out of sight. She could probably still hear him, but Robin doesn’t seem to care or realize it. The yelling makes Killian wince, his head starting to hurt more and more. He closes his eyes, truly feeling like he might pass out any second now. “Give me a moment, mate. My head is throbbing.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Robin motions for the few officers around to go somewhere else. “Officer Scarlet, do me a favor and get chief Nolan in here, would you?” He adds, making Killian widen his eyes in shock. “Robin, please. You and I both know that’s not necessary, right? David will just worry, which is definitely not something we would want, aye?” Killian tries to reason with him, though the nervous tone and slurring words indicate that perhaps it would be a good idea to call David. 

After a few minutes of Robin trying to get Killian to tell what happened, even though he heard a summarized version of it from Miss Swan, David walks in, forehead creased with worry. “Robin? Killian? What’s going on?” Killian shoots a last desperate look to Robin, who just shakes his head and gestures for him to explain.

So he does.

He tells his best mates – because that’s what they are right now. He’s aware that as soon as one of the men calls him by his first name, he’s not just an employee anymore – how he was just patrolling through Cherry Street, as was assigned to him, when he heard suspicious noises. He tells them how a man seemed to be forcing himself upon Miss Swan, and how Killian tried arresting the man, but he couldn’t resist a few witty comments. He tells them how that was the moment the man seemed to loose his temper and pushed him against the wall. He describes how the man shoved him to the ground and stabbed him.

While he tells them what happened, Robin has started to assess the cut on his forehead, gently touching it before apologizing when Killian flinches back. David listens closely before sighing, shaking his head. “Killian, you didn’t handle right, I’m sure you’re aware of that, but I can see why you handled the way you did, so I won’t send you on an unpaid leave. Next time, call for back-up. It’s not bad to call for help, dude. What shocks me the most is the fact that you are seriously injured, but wasn’t planning on telling us any time soon. Where’s the trust we’ve been building up?” Killian stiffens at David’s question. Robin and David have been trying to get Killian to trust them more bit by bit, but are also aware of the fact that with Killian having been abandoned quite a few times in his life, he has developed some trust issues. They have never directly asked him why he doesn’t completely trust them, and to hear it now is like a slap to the face. Tears form in his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. Killian Rogers doesn’t cry. 

He makes a conscious effort to breath, the metaphorical brick on his chest and the pain his ribs are giving him making it a bit harder to breath. “Perhaps I didn’t want to worry you two more. You thought of that?” Killian wants to explain it further, but his energy seems to be nonexistent by now. David sighs as he notices the way Killian wheezes slightly with every intake of air. He realizes that the last thing his friend needs right now is a heartfelt conversation; everyone at the station knows how hard and exhausting it is for Killian to talk about his emotions and issues. What he needs, is a doctor. David has no doubt that Killian will do anything to stay at the station, but he refuses to let his best friend bleed out because he’s a stubborn pain in the arse. Robin seems to think alike, because he squats down in front of him and places a hand on the trembling knee. 

“Kill, you know we care about you, right? So when I say I think it’s best if we take you to the hospital, you understand it’s for your own good, don’t you, mate?” Robin’s calm voice seems to get through to Killian for just a few seconds, before he shakes his head furiously, which Robin doubts is good for the possible concussion. “That’s not necessary, I swear. I think the bleeding has stopped already, anyway,” Killian tries to reason. He realizes that yes, he might’ve lost a bit of blood, possibly still is losing blood and yes, his ribs and head hurt quite a bit, but he is also very aware that a trip to the hospital could lead to hospitalization and David would force him to use his vacation days. He had been saving up his free days to make a trip to England in Spring, to visit the tombstones of his loved ones. 

Killian tries to focus on Robin’s face to give another reason why a hospital is not at all necessary, but everything starts to get fuzzier by the second. He’s vaguely aware of David squatting in front of him as well, his mouth moving as if calling out his name, but his ears seem to be stuffed with wool. His eyelids start drooping and he feels himself falling forward, he can’t feel exactly how many but he assumes there are four arms that catch him. One hits him right in the ribs and a pained moan escapes his mouth. Not having the energy to get back up, he allows the arms of his mates to hold him up for the time being. He feels his upper body getting handed to what he remembers to be the side Robin was on, a hand comfortingly rubbing his back. He allows his muscles to finally relax, the wound in his side protesting against the position he’s currently in but he has no desire to move. When he hears David’s voice talking to someone he assumes is not Robin, he lifts his heavy head and glances over to David, before almost pouting at Robin, a look he is sure expresses desperation. Robin hums in response to the expression, whispering in a tone that Killian guesses is supposed to soothing, “Yeah, lad. If you failing to keep yourself upright isn’t enough proof to convince you that you’re actually in need of medical attention, perhaps the fact that you’re bleeding out on my shirt is?” 

Killian furrows his eyebrows, but as he looks down to see if perhaps Robin was just teasing him, a wave of dizziness hits him. Squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to get the edges of grey to leave, he lets Robin and David, who had apparently returned from making the emergency call, help him lie flat on his back on the station floor. Killian was certain he could’ve stayed awake longer than he did, and he definitely didn’t pass out, just merely rested for a bit, but the exact moment the paramedics rushed into the station, he let himself go.

 

 

Waking up to constant beeping and the smell of disinfectant is another thing Killian can add to his list of unpleasant experiences. Even though he soon figures out he’s in the hospital, which soothes at least one of his worries, he is still quite confused by how he got there and why his body feels numb. He carefully opens his eyes, though with eyelids feeling like lead it’s not quite as easy as he hoped it would be, only to be blinded by the bright hospital lights. He groans and looks around the room, first noticing how there are multiple machines around him though he has no clue what they do, then noticing the blonde in a recliner next to the bed. She seems to have changed into something a bit more comfortable, but he quickly realizes she looks just as stunning as she did before. Her eyes are focused on a book, and after taking a second glance, he recognizes it as Peter Pan. With that thought, a sharp pain shoots through his head and he gasps. Miss Swan looks up at that and immediately sits up straight. As she scans him over and realizes he was in no immediate danger, she huffs. “You ruined my chase. You’re lucky I can actually run on heels and managed to catch him anyway.”

Killian just slowly blinks before raising his hand, which he now notices has a heart rate monitor on his pointer finger and an IV on the upper side. He coughs, in attempt to clear his throat though it just makes him wince because of the pain in his chest, and rasps out, “Officer Killian Rogers, at your service, ma’am.” All she does is raise an unimpressed brow and leans back, dismissing his hand. “Emma Swan. Bail-bondsperson, if you didn’t notice. You’re an ass, you’re aware of that, right? Your colleagues are worried sick about you, but officer French forced Nolan and Locksley to go to the cafeteria so I offered to stay here,” she explains, in what he has already figured out is her stern voice. He dismisses her words, just like she dismissed his handshake, and eyes the water on the bedside table. Emma sighs and lifts the glass up to his lips, carefully helping him take a few sips, before helping him lay back gingerly.

Though he recalls feeling much worse before he 'fell asleep', his body aches and his side throbs with every heartbeat. It seems the pain of the stab wound overpowers the pain in his ribs and head, because right now they’re just minor, seemingly not important enough to mention to anyone, let alone to Miss Swan. But, as if reading his mind, Emma starts to repeat what the doctor had told her.

“Don’t make that face, you look awful with it. Doctor said the knife just barely missed your kidney, so you’ll have to be careful for a while. Officer Nolan mentioned giving you a few weeks off to recover,” she’s interrupted by a groan and a sigh of annoyance, but she continues anyway, “You’ve got severe blood loss, which is the main reason for why you’re so pale, although I think you could use some days on the beach. The push against the wall probably bruised your ribs, and the second push gave you the concussion and the nasty bump and cut on your forehead. The shove to the floor broke two of the lower ribs on the left side. No patrolling for a few weeks, buddy. You look like you could win the Dead Guy of the Year award.” Killian tries to remember all of it, he truly does, but it’s so much information and he’s drowsy and probably slightly high from the painkillers they are giving him. The last thing he remembers is Emma grabbing his hand and squeezing it comfortingly.

“Sleep tight, Rogers.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did writing it! Byling is an old Swedish slang for patrolling police officers.
> 
> Please leave kudos and your opinion, and if you have any prompts, either for a sequel (or prequel?) to this or an entire new one-shot, let me know! 
> 
> X


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